People of the Inner Sea (The Age of Bronze) (8 page)

"What?  Dead?"  Klutaimnéstra's face reddened with suppressed fury.  "Who killed my seer?" she demanded.

"No one knows," Meneláwo sighed.  Both visiting wánaktes bent their necks, hiding their eyes from the queen.

She did not speak, but turned her flashing eyes toward Aígist'o.  He nodded, meeting her gaze with a knowing look, and silently mouthed the name of the absent Argive king, "Agamémnon."

At the same time, the little boy beside the hearth slouched in his chair, disappointed by the vague answer.  He pulled the long topknot at the back of his head to his mouth and chewed the end.

While the wánasha and her guests conversed, the serving-women had been busy.  They mixed wine and water in large bowls and brought wine cups to all the high-born folk about the fire.  The rich scent of meat cooking wafted through the chamber from caldrons set over the central hearth on three-legged stands.  Baskets of freshly baked bread and of dried figs passed before the visitors in the servants' hands.

The talk died down as the group began to eat, Klutaimnéstra's dark eyes taking in every detail of her guests' appearance and behavior.  "Ariyádna, I would have invited you to bathe before dining," she said to her sister, frowning at the travelers' unkempt state.  "But the drought has affected our life even in the palace.  We cannot draw enough water from the springs to fill a single bathtub.  Even I cannot bathe until it rains again."

Ariyádna nodded without understanding.  She ate sparingly, gazing only on her daughter's face.  The child looked to her mother time and again, gingerly touching the dark scratches and bruises on the woman's cheeks, fingering the matted hair.  'Ermiyóna ate little too, pushing away the bits of bread and meat that her mother's fingers pressed to her lips.  Meneláwo ate scarcely more than his wife and child, but he poured cup after cup of watered wine down his throat, slumping in his chair.

Klutaimnéstra was visibly troubled, her forehead knitted with concern as she watched her sister and brother-in-law.  A vague sense of foreboding crept into Klutaimnéstra's soul.  What had happened to them, across the Inner Sea, she wondered.  What unspeakable events had those haunted eyes witnessed?

The It'ákan, however, was thoroughly enjoying himself.  As Odushéyu's belly filled with food and wine, he relaxed and began to regale them all with tales of his own battle prowess.  "The victims of my spear could not be counted on any man’s fingers and toes.  The bronze I took from their bodies would fill this room," he boasted.  "But there is one feat of mine that will be sung about for years to come, when all else has been forgotten.  The Ak'áyan army was hard pressed at that time, with our enemies camped in the field hardly a stone's throw away.  Despite the danger, I made a courageous foray into the heart of the Wilúsiyan camp, to count their forces and especially their chariots.  I had hardly set out when I encountered a Tróyan spy.  The dog thought he would betray us.  Ai, Tróyans are such godless men, no treachery is beyond them.  I fought that spy with the rage of a wild boar.  And he had the strength of a bull.  But in the end, he died on my spear and his shining armor was mine to possess."

Pausing to survey his audience, he took a sip of wine before concluding the tale.  "I counted the number of Wilúsiyan allies that night for Agamémnon, with only Diwoméde with me.  Ai, precious little help that boy was to me."

Klutaimnéstra bridled at the young man's name. "That worthless shepherd," she muttered.  "Agamémnon had no right to make his bastard a qasiléyu.  I had hoped that boy would die and rid me of my shame."

Aígist'o, sitting at the queen's knee, was alarmed by her words.  "Hush, my queen," he whispered.  "Do not arouse their suspicion."  Odushéyu, half-drunk, did not notice.  The wánaks of Lakedaimón showed even less interest.  He had stopped eating and sat with his head in his hands as the It'ákan rattled on.  "Meneláwo," Aígist'o called out, still anxiously eyeing the wánasha.  "Wánaks Meneláwo," the well-dressed Argive repeated with forced cheer, "let us hear from you now.  How many did you kill at Tróya?  How much bronze did you take?"

Odushéyu bridled.  "How dare you interrupt me, you sack of wine!  Meneláwo is not the only man of rank here.  I am a king too, an archer without equal and a master mariner.  What are you?  A mere peace-loving priest!  What were you doing while I was risking my life for Lakedaimón's queen?  Idé, you were safe at home, enjoying your wine and fine robes while I suffered from hunger and pestilence in a drafty tent."

"Odushéyu," Klutaimnéstra snapped with regal displeasure.  "You may be a wánaks but you are also a pirate and an inveterate liar."  Her voice rose in volume to drown out the man's indignant protests.  "I tolerate your presence here only because you are married to my cousin.  But the leader of a few impoverished islands is not of the same rank as one who rules a great kingdom.  Be still or I will have my guard throw you out and tonight you will see whether Mukénai's winds are as cold as Tróya's!  I wish to hear from my brother-in-law.  Meneláwo, tell us, did you gain glory in Wilúsiya's fertile land?"

As Odushéyu bit his lip and silently cursed the Argive wánasha, Meneláwo groaned into his hands.  At his side, Ariyádna shuddered at the sound and drew her ragged cloak more closely around the child in her arms.  The former captive's eyes stared into the flames of the fireplace without seeing and she resumed her rocking.  "By the will of the Bull," she whispered again and again.  'Ermiyóna whimpered, glancing from her mother's scab-covered cheeks to her father's, obscured by his battered hands.

Meneláwo spoke without lifting his head.  "Owái," he moaned, the sound torn from the depths of his soul, "what a price we paid!"

"Yes," Klutaimnéstra said, shaken, resting her rosette-painted hand at her breast.  "The birds warned me that losses would be heavy.  But let us talk of happy things, brother-in-law.  Tell us what glory you won in battle and how much bronze you took."

Meneláwo shook his head.  "By the gods, I would gladly give back all the metal I ever owned, if only I could see again the men who fought for my cause!" he cried, tears threatening to spill over his rugged cheeks.  "Kástor…Poludéyuke…owái, they were the best of princes…"

Beside him, Ariyádna began to cry at the mention of her brothers' names.  The little girl she rocked burst into renewed wails.  Serving women glanced fearfully at the guests and beyond them, at the painted captives on the walls among the tribute bearers.  The servants whispered surreptitious prayers and made the sign of the Evil Eye, hiding their fingers in their skirts.

Klutaimnéstra's eyes filled as well.  Taking a long, shaky breath, she strove for self-control.  "Meneláwo," she soothed, "we must all forget our sorrows tonight.  My brothers won glory in death.  And you have your wife beside you again.  Rejoice over your victory.  Now, dear sister, you must stop your crying.  You are upsetting your daughter.  Times are not as good as they could be, I will admit.  But they will improve.  Mother Diwiyána does not make her children suffer forever."

From the other side of the hearth a boy's voice cried out with sudden passion, "Everything will be all right as soon as Pappa gets home."  Ignoring the whispered entreaties of his sisters, he ran around the hearth to Meneláwo's side.  "Pappa will make everything all right.  He will.  Uncle, tell them.  Tell them!"

Meneláwo took the boy in his arms, letting his tears fall on the child's shoulder.  "Owái, Orésta, what can I tell you?"  Frightened by this unexpected response, Orésta began to cry and pushed his uncle's arms away.

Aígist'o leapt up, shouting at the boy and threatening with his fists.  “Orésta!  Leave the mégaron.  Children do not speak until they are addressed.  Ai, you have no manners, boy!  You are as uncivilized as your father."

Young Orésta turned toward the thin man’s chair, as his sisters beckoned with worried faces, but Aígist'o caught him by the wrist.  The man struck the boy on the cheek.  The boy yelped and pulled at his imprisoned hand, reaching for his sisters with the other.  The oldest girl stepped forward, intending to rescue him.  But the younger girl burst into tears herself and pulled her sister back to her seat.

Ariyádna and 'Ermiyóna screamed in terror at the sudden commotion.  The woman slid to the floor and huddled there, bending protectively over her child.  "Diwiyána!" the battered queen cried.  Meneláwo clapped his hands to his head and cursed his fate, lost in his own misery.  And Odushéyu, thoroughly confused, stood and looked about at all the unhappy faces, uncertain what to do.

Klutaimnéstra, too, stood up, wiping the tears from her cheeks so that she spoiled the rosettes painted there.  "Enough! Enough!" the Argive wánasha shouted over the din.  "Aígist'o, return to your chair.  It is for me to deal with my children, not you."  Directing the frightened servants, the queen directed them take her son away to his room, his sisters following after them, all three children sobbing loudly.

As they filed away through the courtyard outside, the din lessened.  Meneláwo knelt beside his wife and daughter on the floor.  Taking the woman's shoulders in his hands, he urged her up into the chair again.  "I am here, Ariyádna.  No one will hurt you.  Stop crying, 'Ermiyóna.  Pappa will protect you."  With Klutaimnéstra's coaxing added to her husband's, Ariyádna rose to her feet.  The royal nursemaid led her and 'Ermiyóna to the bed-chamber prepared for the guests.

Suddenly, the men were left alone in silence with the Argive queen.  Klutaimnéstra looked all three over with considerable displeasure, the two visiting wánaktes as well as her Argive counselor.  "Aígist'o," the queen directed, "show Odushéyu to a chamber in the north wing.  I have important matters to discuss with my sister's husband."

Aígist'o frowned with distaste at the order.  But the long-haired Argive moved to do his wánasha's bidding.  Odushéyu resisted, though, his nerves on edge and his temper short.  "I am your kinsman too, wánasha," the It'ákan reminded the queen.  "You should consult with me as well as with Meneláwo."  He looked to his fellow king for support.

"Aígist'o, do as I say!" Klutaimnéstra commanded furiously.  And Meneláwo gestured for Odushéyu to go.  Though the It'ákan ground his teeth, he turned to follow Aígist'o from the mégaron.

When Meneláwo and Klutaimnéstra were alone, the queen gestured for him to sit where Aígist'o had been earlier, close to the throne.  He came, hand to his throbbing side, and sat heavily without meeting the wánasha's eyes.  "Sister-in-law, for the love of Diwiyána," he sighed, "do not ask me anything more about Tróya."

She was silent a moment, considering her words carefully.  "That is not the matter I wish to discuss.  Meneláwo, I must ask a favor of you."

He groaned and clapped his hands to his head.  "Do not ask, Klutaimnéstra!  I cannot take sides in your dispute with my brother."

"Ai, by the great goddess!" Klutaimnéstra snapped, brusque and impatient.  "The maináds have been busy this evening.  Just listen to me, Meneláwo.  As you say, I am not on the best terms with your brother.  But do not worry.  My request is that you not take sides.  In fact, I want you to leave Argo as soon as you can, before Agamémnon returns.  Tomorrow, if possible."

Meneláwo raised his head suddenly and met her gaze, his eyes wide with surprise.  "By Díwo, this is a favor to you?"

"No, no, I expect that was your plan, in any case."  Her features softened and she spoke gently.  "The favor is this, Meneláwo.  When you leave, take my son with you.  It is always hard on children when their parents fight and Orésta is especially close to his father.  He cried himself to sleep every night for a month when Agamémnon first sailed away.  I cannot bear to think what he will do when…."  She paused, biting her full, lower lip.  In a harsher voice, she said, "Let us simply say that he should not be here to see his mother and father quarrel.  Let me restore peace to my household before I call him back to me."

Between the wine and the strain, Meneláwo was thoroughly bewildered.  "But my brother will want to see Orésta…"

Klutaimnéstra spoke quickly and urgently.  "There is more going on here than you know.  There is a great evil lying between Agamémnon and me.  His homecoming will mean reliving that evil and that may tear my household apart.  I am afraid for all my children, but most especially for Orésta.  He is so young and trusting.  He simply will not accept the fact that his father killed his oldest sister."

"Klutaimnéstra, wait," Meneláwo said, raising his hands to stop her.  "Ip'emédeya…"

The wánasha struck her brother-in-law's gaunt face with her open palm.  "Do not speak my daughter's name!" she cried as sudden rage overwhelmed her.  "No son of Atréyu will ever say her name to me again!  Idé, you wail about the price you paid for Ariyádna.  You moan about your warriors," she said scornfully.  "But it was Agamémnon who paid the highest price.  He sacrificed his own child.  I will never forgive him for that, never!  The people of Argo will not forget that outrage, either.  They want him off the throne as much as I."  She stood, trembling with fury, her face as white as bleached linen.